


Down and Out in the West

by RositaLG



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Coma, F/M, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, POV Alternating, Tropes, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-14 13:45:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15390036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RositaLG/pseuds/RositaLG
Summary: Jack has a coma dream straight out of his Western novels. Meanwhile, Phryne does her best to keep him alive in the real world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I don't know either. It just appeared one day.

“Jack, if this is the same man…” Phryne hesitated. The doctor they were tailing was suspected of murdering patients in New South Wales before changing his name and starting over in Victoria. She knew from experience that runners from the law did not take kindly to being trapped by it.  

Jack glanced back at her knowingly.

“He’s going to be volatile when cornered,” he finished for her as they headed towards the front door of the hospital. “Be...”

“You’re early.” A voice rang out from behind them. They turned around to see Dr. Jones on the sidewalk holding a gun on them. Jack had his gun out before Phryne could even reach hers and he stepped in front of her defensively while she backed him up.

“A shootout. I should have known. Fancy yourself a cowboy, Inspector?”

“It doesn't have to be that way.”

Jack spoke calmly and it filled her with confidence. He knew what he was doing.

“Oh, I think it does,” he smiled, cocking his gun. “You see, I have no intention of going back to prison. But if I have to go, I want to be welcomed back as the man who finally shot down Jack Robinson.”

Three gunshots tore through the air, the noise reverberating against everything in their wake.

Jack staggered backwards into her arms.

“Jack!” She laid him on the ground. “Oh god,” she cried out as she ripped her gloves off her hands to staunch the blood seeping from his abdomen.

“Phry…”

“Shhh. He’s dead,” she promised.

“I need to tell you someth…” He hissed as she pressed tighter on his wound.

“No. Don’t you dare. We’re not doing that,” she scolded.

“Should though.” He coughed as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Jack Robinson, if you die on me right now, I will never forgive you.”

“Liar,” he murmured, unfazed by her threats.

“Jack!” She shook him by the shoulder. “Jack, wake up.”

His eyes opened weakly and she took a deep breath.

“Fine. I love you. Are you satisfied?” She asked. “Now you say it.”

Jack coughed weakly instead. His hands covered her bloody ones.

“Jack...” His eyes started to glaze and it scared her half to death. “Jack?!”

He struggled for enough air to whisper his final thoughts and Phryne watched in horror as the red lining of his coat was made redder with every gasp.

“You were... worth... every moment.”

“Jack!” She cried out but two arms were quick to hold her back as doctors finally came rushing in from the hospital. “JACK!” She screamed, fighting the grasp with a fury she had never known. Still, she was dragged further and further away as she watched the blood pool under the small of his back. She was still fighting when she felt something heavy fill her blood. She barely managed to look to her left as a swirl of red hair holding something metallic was the last image she saw.

OOOOO

When Phryne awoke, her mind was heavy. She felt… But she needed...something.

Jack.

“Easy." Dot touched her arm gently. "You’ve had quite a day.”

“Jack,” she repeated, or maybe just spoke it for the first time? Either way, her mind had been screaming it for hours.

“The Inspector is in surgery now. He was shot but the injury was clean through. Dr. MacMillan stressed that that was important.” Dot comforted herself with the thought. “All the same, I have been praying for him like mad,” she confessed.

“Mac..” She vaguely recalled her interception.

“You were fighting her like a tiger, Miss!" Dot's eyes were wide with a memory Phryne couldn't find. “But she said that if you hadn’t, she would have been more concerned.”

“Is he dead?” She asked bluntly.

“Dr. Jones? Yes.” In an unexpected turn of events, Dot didn’t seem the least bit sorry to say it. “I’ve never been more thankful for your pistol,” she added so confidently, Phryne couldn’t help but reach for her hand in gratitude for the young girl.

“Don’t worry, Miss. Everything will work out,” Dot said confidently. “The Inspector is being worked on right this very moment. It won’t be long before you are both back on your feet.”

Phryne knew better than to reply.

OOOOO

The town appeared just over the ridge and Jack understood why they were having trouble keeping a sheriff in town. It was barely more than a street at the moment, probably a stopping point for supplies to passing travelers more than anything. He spurred his horse onward and led it down the hill towards Main street.

As he stopped in front of the jail, Jack took his time getting off his horse and tying him up, wanting to work up the confidence to make an impression on whoever may be ready to greet him inside.

“Sheriff Robinson. You made it.” A voice came from the doorway of the jail. He looked up to see a young deputy heading his way. “I’m Bill Taylor.”

“Jack Robinson.” He shook his hand.  

“Come on, I’ll show you around.” Bill smiled as he patted the horse.

Jack followed him into a small, one room house, sparsely furnished with a stove, bed, dresser, and a chair. Then again, he barely had anything to add to it, so who was he to judge? Next door was the jail. After a quick tour, Bill moved on to describing the town.

“The saloon ‘cross the street is the only source of entertainment. Most everyone spends their evenings there, either upstairs or down,” Bill gestured and Jack understood liquor wasn’t the only thing for sale there. “But if mingling with the locals ain’t your thing, the church is on the west end of the street. The service is at 9 every Sunday. Preacher’s name is Smith. Doc has a set-up just there. General store has everything you need and will order what it doesn’t. You’ve got an account there for the business supplies: guns, ammunition…” He trailed off as Jack sat behind his desk, trying out his chair. “If you need anything else, I’m about a mile down the road. Can’t miss it,” he added.

“Thank you, Bill,” Jack smiled. “I appreciate it.”

Bill nodded and left him alone to take in his surroundings in peace.

Jack leaned back, put his boots up on the corner of the desk, and settled in to his new kingdom.

OOOOO

“Can I see him?” Phryne asked, jumping out of bed.

“Hello to you too,” Mac replied, coming over to check her pulse. “We’re keeping the Inspector under sedation. The bullet went through some very important organs, including his lung. The longer we can keep him still, breathing slowly, the better he will heal.”

“How long?” She asked.

“As long as is medically possible?” Mac replied vaguely, unsure herself.

“But can I see him?” She asked again.

Mac looked her over once, knowing there was nothing in her power she could do to stop her.

“I won’t go in the room, if that’s your concern. I’ll just peek in from the hall.” The compromise gave away her desperation but she didn't care. “Please, Mac?”

“One toe over the line and I’m banning you from the hospital entirely.”

“Not a toe,” she promised happily.

OOOOO

After making himself a pathetic supper of stale crackers, a tin of peaches, and some jerky leftover from his trail bag, Jack decided to head over to meet his neighbors across the street at the saloon. The place was lit up to the nines and looked warm and inviting in the middle of the black nothingness that surrounded the town. Music was filtering out on the wind and Jack couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard such lively playing.

He walked in unnoticed, which allowed him to observe for a minute before his gaze landed on the woman behind the bar. There was no mistaking that she was the madame in charge. She moved confidently and with purpose, serving drinks and sending men upstairs with only her eyes and a tiny nod of her chin. She was small, but graceful and Jack didn’t mind watching her work while he waited his turn at the end of the bar.

“What will it be?” She asked before even looking at him.

“Whiskey,” he said confidently and she gave the stranger her full attention at hearing the new and commanding voice. She slowly scanned him from top to bottom. She noticed the badge on his chest, although her eyes didn’t stop on it.

“The first one is on the house.” She poured him a drink and slid it his way. “Welcome to town, Sheriff...”

“Jack Robinson. Glad to be here.” He raised the glass to her before downing it in a shot and waving for another with his finger. “And you would be?”

“Miss Phryne Fisher, proprietor, at your service.” She leaned forward over the bar, her cleavage spilling out of her bodice. Jack fought the urge to roll his eyes. Did other men fall for such obvious tactics?

“Pleasure,” he said just as a brawl began to break out at the other end of the bar. Before he could even stand up, Phryne had produced a gun from God knows where in her dress.

“James, Wallace, you’ve had enough. Out. Now.” 

Jack watched with interest as the pair suddenly froze where they were, taking her threat seriously.

“Sorry, Miss Phryne.” A third man apologized for their behavior on their behalf and began shoving them towards the door. “No need for all that. Won’t happen again.”

“I should hope not,” she scolded as she put both hands on her hips, watching them go.

“A lot of fights here at night?” Jack questioned before taking a sip of his drink, already knowing the answer.

“Men never learn,” she rolled her eyes knowingly.

“Gunfire too?”

“Like I said…” She tucked the gun away in a well-concealed pocket in the folds of her skirt.

“Well, I aim to make this town less dangerous, Miss Fisher.”

She glanced over at him with a small smirk before getting another drink for someone further down the bar. She left a waft of perfume in her wake that cut through the stench of dirty ranchers and turned his abdomen over. It’d been a long time since someone had had that effect on him.

He watched as she laughed at someone’s joke at the other end of the bar and he couldn’t help but admire her. She was clearly a woman who could handle herself. He finished off the last of his drink and stood up. She noticed him leaving and came back over.

“Miss Fisher.” He tipped his hat as he bid his goodbye.

“Leaving so soon? You haven’t even been upstairs yet.”

Jack was more than aware that other men in his position would abuse the privilege of their badge, willing to look the other way for more illicit activities so long as they got their dues paid. Judging by Miss Fisher’s surprise, she’d worked out more than a few of these backdoor deals in her time.

“I only make house calls if I’m invited in, Miss Fisher,” he explained with a knowing glint in his eye. She smiled openly this time, impressed or amused by his response, he couldn’t tell. “But my door is always open to those who require it.” He gestured across the street to the station.

“We’re the only place in town that does,” she informed him. “I expect we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, Sheriff.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” he smiled.

“Good night,” she dismissed him, trying to look busy, but he felt her long glance on his back half as she watched him go.

He smirked to himself, slightly proud that he’d caught her attention.

OOOOO 

Jack stirred minutely on the bed, and Phryne briefly wondered if he knew she was there.

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Jack?” She asked him quietly, assuming it was disconcerting for him, a natural observer, being stared at like this. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wake up and tell me if that’s the case,” she bribed, even though she knew he was under sedation. “No? Alright then. I suppose it’s better that way anyway as I’m not supposed to be in here.” She glanced at the door before leaning over and stroking his cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

OOOOO

Jack waited up that night, assuming that the business across the street would be the majority of his, but they never called on him.

“Done for the night?” Jack called from his porch as Phryne turned the last customer out onto the street.

“Even saloon owners have to sleep sometime,” she smiled as she wrapped her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders and took a few steps closer towards him.

“You don’t have any help?” He asked, leaning on his porch beam.

Phryne smiled, as if she had been waiting for the assumption.

“I run a business, Sheriff, same as anyone else. Only difference is that I’m a woman.”

“I only meant that it’s a lot of work for one person to do by herself.”

“So is keeping the town safe,” she pointed out as she walked backwards with a smirk.

Jack chuckled to himself in acquiescence as he watched her disappear into the saloon once more.

“Fair enough, Miss Fisher,” he muttered under his breath. “Fair enough.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jack’s nightly drink and later, his final check in with Phryne, became a tradition of sorts. He’d stop in for a drink, go home, read a book, and move out to the porch around the same time his fellow citizens began tumbling out of the saloon. He’d stay there until they were all home safely, say goodnight to Phryne, and go in to bed. But one evening, Phryne didn't come out to lock up. She put out most of the lights, swung the door open, and simply asked “Can I offer you one more, Sheriff?” 

Jack wondered if this surreptitious meeting was to discuss something that she didn’t want others to know about so, under the guise of duty, he made his way across the street and made himself comfortable at a table across from her. 

She poured them both a whiskey and sat in silence for a moment. 

“How can I help you, Miss Fisher?” He asked, pulling his drink towards him. 

“Just be here for a minute? I had a rough night.” She downed her drink and poured another. Her hand was shaking.

“Anything I can do?” He asked, unused to seeing this level of vulnerability from her. 

“A man came through tonight I hadn’t seen in twenty years but I recognized him at once. You don’t forget the man who killed your sister,” she confessed and Jack’s concern suddenly grew tenfold. “Judge said there wasn’t enough proof, but we both know the truth.” She paused. “I thought he might not remember me but then he grinned.” She shivered. “I thought I should have some sort of company tonight. Although I don’t know if I’m protecting him or myself.”

“This man have a name?” Jack finally asked. 

“Yes,” she replied, not sharing it. 

“He ever threaten you?” He asked. 

“Only if you count the fact that he’s still breathing.” She did another shot. 

“I could help, if you’d let me,” Jack offered gently. 

Phryne sighed and looked longingly at the staircase. 

“You know, those girls upstairs are the most important thing in my life. They’re not just my business, but my family. We protect each other. I’d never do anything to hurt them. And losing all this for a man who isn’t worth the land he’s standing on, well, it isn’t worth my trouble.” 

Jack found her loyalty endearing, probably because he shared that quality. 

“Do you have any family, Sheriff?” She asked, changing the subject and Jack could almost see the real question hovering in the air, so he got straight to it.

“My wife didn’t plan on the war, or the rough life of a traveling sheriff afterwards: the small towns, the loneliness, the desolation. When no children came, she went home to her family in the city, happy to live out the rest of her life under their roof.”

“I’m sorry.” Phryne looked down at her hands. “It must be terribly lonesome for you, moving from town to town like that alone.” 

“Truthfully, I’ve always liked being on my own. I don’t half-wonder if that wasn’t the larger issue,” he confessed, immediately wondering why he’d let something like that out of his mouth unfiltered. “I apologize.”

“Don’t.” She shook her head and her hand came out to rest on his before pulling away sharply. “I just have one of those faces.” She explained with an embarrassed laugh. “Comes from working with people. They spill their stories all over my bar day in and day out.” 

“I’ll know who to deputize when I need to interrogate someone,” he teased, breaking the tense atmosphere a little more. “You want to sleep in the cell tonight? Keep you in and him out?” He offered. 

“No thank you.” She chuckled darkly. “If I’m going out, I’d like to do it from my own bed.” 

“Fair enough,” he agreed with her sentiment. When he looked up again, Phryne was staring at him, debating something.  “Was there something else?” He asked and he felt the air around them grow heavy as he realized she was contemplating whether or not to ask him upstairs. 

“It’s...nothing.” She made her mind up. “You’ve been more than kind, Sheriff. I won’t keep you any longer.”

“You know where to find me if you need anything,” he reminded her he was just across the street and her shoulders visibly loosened. 

“Thank you.” She held out her hand and Jack shook it, unable to ignore the spark of electricity shooting up his arm or the way her soft hand felt against his calloused one.

“Any time,” he murmured, distracted by her to an almost dangerous degree. He broke away and headed for the safety of his own home, not sure he could trust himself to turn her down if she changed her mind. 

But as he lay in the dark that evening, he couldn't help but wonder what lay in store for them as he watched her silhouette move across her window, lanterns still blazing. He fell asleep long before they were extinguished. 

OOOOO

Phryne was holding his hand, unable to resist running her fingertips over every muscle and bone of those long fingers of his. He had such beautiful hands. 

“Too forward, Inspector?” She asked. “I did tell you I loved you, so I’m assuming you won’t mind if I take advantage of this rare opportunity.” 

True to his nature, he didn’t respond. Jack never openly flirted with her but he never discouraged her comments either, unless he thought they were inappropriate for their surroundings. But when they were alone, usually in her parlor, she was free to say almost anything to him and he would accept it with a small smile or a deep stare that would turn her abdomen inside out. 

Her grip on his hand tightened. 

She hadn’t taken full advantage of it. 

Perhaps that was why he was so open with her. He knew, deep down, that she would never press him until he was ready to reciprocate. 

And he had been ready.

He’d come back from the Strano case with a new look in his eye, and while he hadn’t made a move, she’d felt the impact of his newfound certainty during their next case. She could cry now as she recalled the look in his eye when he called her a kid from Collingwood, the soft way he reached out to inspect the red spot on her neck. By the time he gifted her that swallow pin, she wanted to be his so badly, she ached for it. 

This entire time, she realized, she had been waiting for him to be brave enough to come to her. But the truth was, he’d been doing the same, waiting for her to be ready to commit to what he needed.

And now that she was, she might not get her chance.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack was in the middle of eating dinner when he heard a gunshot go off across the street. He grabbed his pistol and headed out the door to find Phryne Fisher pointing a rifle at a man lying in the street.

“Sheriff. I have a guest for you tonight,” she exclaimed, her eyes wild with rage. “This drunken fool just tried to kill Cora Murphy.” 

Jack rushed towards the man, picking him up by the arms to put him in irons just as Doctor Matterley was rushing towards the saloon, called to action by the same sound. 

“Follow me,” Jack commanded to Phryne, knowing she was going to be the one who would fight him the most, especially if the girl was severely injured. She glanced at the Doctor warily as he passed her but did as she was told. 

Jack locked up the man, who he recognized as a regular patron of the saloon, and sat Phryne down in the chair behind his desk. 

“What’s your name?” He asked the drunk man but got nothing from him. 

“Will Miller,” Phryne replied for him. “He’s a ranch hand out at the Phillips place.”

“Tell me what happened,” he asked quietly, but firmly. 

“Will went upstairs to see Cora, he was drunk but he always is. I heard a crash and a scream and I ran upstairs to find him with his hands around her throat, trying to kill her.”

Will, for his part, began to cry. 

Jack took that as a confession. 

“Thank you, Miss Fisher. You can go,” he dismissed her and she rushed across the street to tend to Cora.

“Care to fill in the blanks, Mr. Miller?” Jack offered when they were alone. 

“She was laughing at me.” His tears turned to rage as the memory came back. “Said I couldn’t keep coming up if I couldn’t get it up, the little slut,” he tantrumed, hitting the wall. “Like she’s better than me, whoring herself out to every man that can pay.” 

“That’s enough, Mr. Miller,” Jack responded sharply, shutting him up. He walked outside, the bar had cleared out in a hurry and Jack took the liberty of walking up the stairs for the first time. 

There were six rooms up there, by Jack’s count, three on each side of the hall. He knew Phryne’s room was the last on the right. Two of the rooms were closed, their tenants either unconcerned or unwilling to stop their business early. Jack tried to focus on finding the right room. Despite the debauched sounds emanating from behind the wooden doors, he could hear Phryne and the Doc whispering soothing sounds from his left and he stood in the open doorway, watching as they both sat on either side of Cora’s bed. 

Phryne noticed him first and squeezed the girl’s hand before standing up and moving towards him. 

“I’m going to charge him with attempted murder,” Jack whispered. “They’ll take him to the district court to stand charges but as he’s already confessed, I don’t expect any issues.” He glanced over her shoulder. “How is she?” 

“She’s shaken up and bruised, but the doctor says she’ll be fine.” She glanced over her shoulder, as if in doubt of her own words. “Thank you, Jack,” she murmured sincerely. 

“You’re welcome.” He touched her arm gently. “Get some rest.” 

She nodded and returned to her place at Cora’s bedside. 

OOOOO

When Jack stepped out of the jail that evening, he spotted a bottle of whiskey sitting on the step. He picked it up and saw a note underneath it. 

_ From your neighbors, in gratitude. _

He smiled and took the bottle home. He placed the note in between the pages of one of his favorite books, wanting to keep the memory of her safe. 

OOOOO

When Phryne came back the next day, she was armed with entertainment. 

“Good morning, Jack. I’ve brought you some books," she announced as she sat down at his bedside. “I hope you don’t mind, I borrowed them from your stash, but you needed something besides the paper, don’t you agree?” She asked the man, who was as still as a corpse. “And wasn’t I pleased to find there are some scandalous things on your shelves, Inspector!” She tsked. “Shall we start with Whitman?” 

OOOOO

That night, when Phryne came out to lock up, Jack held up his new bottle of whiskey. 

“Can I interest you in a nightcap, Miss Fisher?” 

She smiled at the offer. 

“Is that an invitation?” She asked, conjuring their first conversation together. 

Jack stilled a moment, contemplating the question. 

“I suppose it is.” He wondered if the apathetic response would put her off or set her at ease. 

She simply strode across the street and directly into his home. 

Jack followed her inside and pulled two glasses off the shelf. He poured them each a drink as she looked around at his meager surroundings. 

“Not much to it,” he admitted before she could. 

“No need either. I’ve never seen another soul here. I’m surprised you have two glasses.” 

“I never know when one is going to break,” he reasoned and she laughed. 

“To good neighbors.” She raised a glass to him and he raised his back before taking a sip. 

“Where are the books?” She asked curiously, revealing that she had noticed him through his window from time to time as well. 

He laughed and gestured to a large trunk along the foot of the bed. 

She got up hesitantly and he gave her silent permission to open it. She cracked it open and smiled at the bounty. 

“Help yourself,” he offered. 

“No wonder you’re not lonely.” Her hands skimmed along the covers carefully before she picked one up, sat down on the bed, and opened it at random. “Loafe with me on the grass,” she began to read and Jack knew that he was done for. He finished his drink as she continued on, not wanting to waste good whiskey. 

“Loose the stop from your throat, Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best, Only the lull I like, the hum of your valvèd voice,” she murmured, slowly realizing what Jack already knew as he closed the curtains over the windows. “I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my…”

“Hips,” Jack responded, knowing it by memory. “Go on,” he encouraged.

“and gently turn'd over upon me,” she whispered, her face and shoulders flushing red as Jack got on his knees before her to begin undoing her shoes. 

“And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone,” he continued, spreading her thighs before continuing upwards, his face hidden by her skirt, “and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart.” 

Jack barely heard the book thud as it fell forgotten to the floor, his tongue’s breach of the gap in her pantalettes her only focus.

OOOOO

When Jack awoke the next morning, he was alone. He looked groggily at the clock before sitting up and stretching, his muscles protesting their overuse the night before. On the table, the two glasses and the open bottle of whiskey sat as a reminder of what had occurred, as if her signature scent hadn’t lingered long after she’d slipped out into the night. 

He stepped over the book on the floor and made his way to the basin to wash up. 

For the first time since he’d arrived, he felt inexplicably lonely. 

OOOOO

“I want to see him,” Phryne demanded as Mac sighed. 

“They're going to wake him up today. If he wakes up, he could be confused or in pain. He won’t be taking visitors any time soon.” 

“If?” Phryne caught the tiny word with the big implications. “What happens if he doesn’t wake up?” She asked, letting the thoughts that had been niggling at the back of her mind run free.

“Let’s see what happens first,” Mac commented passively, “and then, we’ll go from there.”

“Mac…” Phryne’s fragile strength was unable to withstand the weight of the possibilities. 

“Phryne, trust me. Please?” 

It was the biggest request anyone had ever asked of her. 

OOOOO

Jack had probably drank too much whiskey. 

He hadn’t meant to, but it tasted like her and waking up alone had brought the cold realities of her position to the forefront of his now jealous mind. As he sat in the dark, staring over at the bright lights of her brothel, he couldn’t erase the images his mind was conjuring. 

She’d left without saying goodbye, which told him he was just another man who had fallen over himself to be with her. One of many, he was sure. He’d seen the shadows in her windows, the silhouettes coming and going, the men paying for their chance to forget their lonely existence for a few minutes. How many of those men had buried themselves inside her? How many had become drunk on her perfume, tasted the sweet flesh of her breast, heard her soft cries as she came around them, shivering and breathless?

But he was also upset with himself for doing the falling, especially when he was only here temporarily. How could he let himself feel this way knowing full well that they could never be together?

His mind was swimming as he staggered to his bed. He fell face down on it as he faintly heard someone calling out for an Inspector. 

He ignored the noise, wanting nothing more than to sleep.

OOOOO 

“Phryne?” Mac’s voice through the telephone made her heart stop. 

“What is it? What’s happened?”

“They took Jack off of sedation but he didn’t wake up.”

Phryne closed her eyes.

“No one knows why,” she replied honestly. “But giving him a reason to might help.”

“I’m on my way.” Phryne slammed down the receiver. 


	4. Chapter 4

Phryne Fisher stood silently in the middle of the dark street, her very presence a question posed.

Jack looked up and down the street in both directions, making sure they were alone.

“You haven’t been in to see me in a few days,” she stated, sounding hurt.

“I’ve had my own whiskey to drink at night,” he excused himself.

“We have more to offer than whiskey,” she reminded him gently as she made his way towards him.

“I’m aware,” he scoffed.

Her eyes flashed and even in the dark, he could see that his words hit their target.

“You know, it's not good business to leave before getting paid for your services,” he commented less than passively.

The slap across his cheek stopped him cold.

“How dare you cheapen something so beautiful?” She looked livid.

“I wasn’t the one who walked out.” He held his ground but so did she.

“Is that what this is about?” She asked, stepping even closer. “You didn’t like waking up alone?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I didn't,” he spat back, “but what I really don’t like is the thought of sitting at the bar while you flirt for your business, or watching another man go up to your bed, or thinking night and day about someone else getting to taste your skin or see the color of your eyes while they’re inside you. No, Miss Fisher. I can’t abide any of it.”

Phryne was still shaking, but the rage in her eyes had been replaced with something else.

Unrelenting desire.

Jack pulled her close and kissed her, having nothing to lose. She responded eagerly, as if he’d spent the last few moments seducing her, rather than fighting her on his porch. He managed to pull her inside and slam the door but that was as far as he got before Phryne shoved his trousers down around his ankles and took him in her mouth.

“Phryne!” He hissed as his head fell back against the door. Her hands moved just this side of rough, wanting to break him fast. With one particularly deep suck, he did just that, coming hard into her waiting mouth.

She stood up and waited for his eyes to open.

“I can fuck you like you’re just another man with cash burning in your pockets if that’s how you feel,” she offered, “but that's not who you are to me, Jack Robinson. That's not why I accepted your invitation. The only men I take to my bed are the ones who deserve to be there.” She pushed past him and left him alone in the dark once again.

OOOOO

The next night, Jack returned to his place at the bar.

Phryne looked half-surprised to see him but she didn’t show it for long.

“Welcome back.” She poured him a drink and moved on, letting them both adjust to the silent statement he was making.

Bill walked in a short time later and the pair got lost in a conversation about a local series of bank robberies that were sweeping the area.

“Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen." Phryne sidled up to their stools. "Sheriff, can I ask for your assistance? I need a strong hand in the storage room with some pesky crates.” She smiled charmingly.

“Of course, Miss Fisher. Always glad to be of service.” He stood up and Bill excused him with a none-the-wiser nod.

Phryne tossed her towel over her shoulder and headed back to the storage room, Jack in tow. As soon as they were alone in the dark, she tossed the towel onto a shelf, pulled him against her, and kissed him fiercely.

Jack was caught off-guard for only a moment before kissing her back.

“I’m sorry I left,” Phryne murmured against his lips.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” he added.

He kissed her until her back was against the wall. She hitched her dress up and wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing against him and making him hiss.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me,” she moaned into his neck. “I’ve never needed anyone so much in my life. I can’t say no to you.”

“I know the feeling,” he concurred heartily, his erection now painfully insistent that he take her right there. He unbuttoned his trousers quickly and she guided him inside her.

They both moaned as he entered her, relishing in the tight, wet heat between them. He set a quick but steady pace, holding onto her hips as bottles rattled around them.

“Oh, yes.” She bit her lip as he thrust deeply into her. “Don’t stop,” she panted hotly in his ear. “Just like this.”

Her encouragement only spurred him on faster and he fucked her with abandon, her hitched-up petticoats ruffling his bare thighs with every thrust. She came with a muffled scream and he pulled out to come in his hand, for lack of any other options. He reached for his handkerchief as she left her position against the wall. She looked thoroughly ravaged.

“Everyone will know what we’ve been doing back here,” he knew as he cleaned his hand.

“You’d be surprised,” she managed as she fixed herself back into working order. “Hauling crates is hard work.” She flashed him a smile. “There’s a water pump out back,” she gestured towards the door so he could wash up. “Give me a head start?” She asked.

He nodded and she kissed him once in gratitude before picking up the towel, throwing it back over her shoulder, and sashaying back into the public eye with a few new bottles of ale in her hand.  

OOOOO

“Jack Robinson, enough is enough,” Phryne declared as she stormed his room like the charming freight train he once accused her of being. “You’ve made everyone terribly upset. Now I know you hate everyone fussing over you but I’m sorry, you’re just going to have to wake up and let them," she demanded.

When she still got no response, she sighed and sat down gingerly on his good side and took his hand once more before laying beside him carefully. She looked him over. His color looked better now that he was off sedation.

“I’m here, Jack,” she murmured in his ear and stroked his shoulder, trying a new tactic. “I’m here and I need you, you stupid man, so stop being so stubborn and wake up. Please wake up.”

OOOOO

For the first time that evening, Jack watched Phryne lock up from inside the saloon. She looked tired and Jack couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her and let her lean on him. She stayed there for a few long moments before lifting her head off his shoulder.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” She asked him.

“If you’d like,” he offered.

She nodded and reached out for his hand, which he gave willingly, and she led him up the stairs to her room. She shut the door behind them, locking it quietly. They both undressed and climbed into her bed, facing each other, heads on pillows.

“You look worried,” Phryne noticed as she traced the lines on Jack’s face briefly.

“I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” She asked, her brow furrowing.

“Love you,” he whispered as he brushed her hair back from her face. “With a job, a wife…”

“Shhh.” Phryne closed her eyes. “Be with me, here, now. That’s enough,” she promised. She tilted her head, awaiting his response, and he nodded his acceptance, kissing her until the realities of his life were swept aside.

OOOOO

Jack heard the familiar hoof beats coming down the road before he saw them. His stomach clenched as he dressed as quickly as he could and made his way outside. He didn’t need to look out the window to know who it was and why he was here. He’d been both expecting and ignoring the impending telegram sending him on to his next location. They’d found a new sheriff, a proper one, to replace him. And while he used to appreciate the constant moving, the lack of attachments, and the lack of questions about his mysteriously missing wife, now he was wondering just how he would break the news to the woman currently asleep in his bed. For now, it was better to get the messenger off his step quickly before she woke up.

“Telegram, Sheriff.” The messenger handed him the note. “Just came in.”

“Thank you.” He took it and headed back inside.

The message was simple: he had two days to pack up and move on.

Phryne stirred from the bed, reaching across his empty space and finding him gone.

“Good morning,” he assisted her in locating him as he tucked the telegram in his pocket.

She smiled contentedly as his voice reached her.

“Good morning.” She sat up and stretched, unfazed by her lack of clothes.

Jack lit a match, starting the stove.

“I was just going to get some water for coffee. I’ll be back,” he informed her as he walked out to the pump to fill his water for the day. When he returned, she was dressed and fixing her hair at the table. He walked past her and began boiling the water.

“Jack, is everything alright?” She asked hesitantly.

“Mmhm.” He always lied poorly.

“Then come kiss me good morning,” she requested too sweetly, calling his bluff.

He sighed, knowing it would break him in two.

“Go on, tell me the truth,” she demanded.

Jack pulled out the telegram and slid it across the table to her.

“This came this morning.” He watched her face fall as she read the contents.

“But you just got here,” she argued, sliding it back towards him in denial.

“Time doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Tell them you want to stay; take the position here yourself.”

“That’s not the way it works.”

“So stay anyway. You could work with me, help me run the saloon.”

He turned to look at her, her eyes desperately pleading with him to pick any solution that allowed him to stay. He pulled a chair up so that he was facing her and reached out for her hands.

“Phryne, we both knew this day was coming,” he reminded her, “and I can’t stay here any more than you could leave. I have nothing to offer you.”

“Bull!” She swore, throwing his hands aside. “Do you think something like this comes along every day? I love you, I told you that that was enough for me.” She stood up.

“Phryne…” Jack stayed in his chair, as if he could anchor her to him by standing his ground.

“No!” She scoffed, not wanting to hear more from him. “If that’s the way you feel, if I’m that easy to give up, then as far as I’m concerned, you’re right. There isn’t a reason for you to stay.” She took one last look at him. “Goodbye, Jack.” She stormed out the door.

Jack sighed before dramatically slumping forward to rest his throbbing forehead on the table. He took a deep breath and then everything went dark.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People, I had an ending planned but then my fingers kept typing, so... I won't be posting as quickly as I have been, but the trade-off is more words, so, I think it will be okay.

He knew she was there before he opened his eyes. 

His first conscious thought was that he was at Wardlow somehow. The smell of her perfume was that strong. 

“Jack?” He heard her call his name from a distance. “Jack, can you open your eyes?” She requested softly and he frowned at such a stupid question. Of course he could. But when he tried, he found it was near impossible. 

“Bright,” he protested but his throat had never been dryer and he didn’t know why. The light dimmed and he felt his bed being moved into more of a sitting position.

“I’ve got water right here, Jack, open your eyes,” she instructed and he tried to pry them apart but they merely fluttered. 

“Good, good,” she patted his arm encouragingly and he did it again, this time getting them to stay open. Her blue eyes and white dress glowed heavenly in the dim room. 

“Welcome back,” she smiled as she rewarded him by bringing a straw to his lips. He drank a glassful of the water greedily. 

“What happened?” He croaked. 

“You were shot,” she murmured, stroking his hair in an intimate way that he registered as new, although it didn’t feel that way. It felt wonderful. “And then you refused to wake up. Everyone is quite cross with you,” she scolded him kindly. 

“Sorry.” He coughed, his throat unused to being in action.

“It’s alright. For now, I’ll settle for seeing those handsome eyes of yours again,” she complimented him. 

“I can’t feel anything,” he realized.

“You will and when you do, you’ll hate yourself for being so brave,” she promised.

“How long?” He asked as he tried to shift a little and found it useless. His body was a dead weight for the moment.

“Four days,” she replied, understanding his question perfectly. It was only then that her facade fell and tears began to flood her eyes. “Oh.” She scoffed at herself while digging for a handkerchief in her pocketbook. “Now they come.” She sounded angry with herself. 

“Phryne,  I…” But he didn't get a chance to continue. 

“He’s up at last,” Mac smiled a genuine smile as she came into the room. “You gave us all a fright, Inspector.”

He didn't respond. He was still watching Phryne as she dabbed furiously at her tears.

“Phryne, why don’t you let everyone know the Inspector is awake and that he can begin seeing visitors tomorrow,” Mac suggested in a kind way that told her she needed the room and Jack’s undivided attention.

“Of course.” She stood up with an obedient sniff. “I’ll be outside whenever you’re done.”

“She’s not a visitor?” Jack asked and Mac smiled.

“Mental acuity is intact.” She looked pleased by his sharp question. “I registered her as a visiting nurse,” she explained as she listened to his chest. “Her credentials are excellent and we wanted to be alerted as soon as you woke up. She’s been at your side full time for two days now.”

Jack sighed.

“What’s the damage then?” He asked, wanting to get the hard part over with.

“The bullet traveled through your right side, hitting your lung. We stitched you back together but I wouldn’t recommend testing the limits of that location again.”

He swallowed.

“You’ve been unconscious for four days but you’re healing nicely. No infection.” She undid his bandages and Jack snuck a curious look at his new scar. “We’ll keep you here for a few more days but then you'll require complete bed rest for at least another 4 weeks. Your nurse has already volunteered for the task of watching your progress and I believe has moved your bed, clothes, and books into her own personal library.”

Jack looked at her incredulously. 

“A month with Mr. Butler’s food won’t do you any harm,” Mac reminded him. “You haven't eaten in days. Which reminds me, I’m going to send someone to remove your IV and catheter. We’ll start you off with something easy like soup and bread and see where you go from there.”

“Mac?” He stopped her from her work. “How is she?” 

“She’ll be fine now that you’re awake. She’s been... protective of you.” Mac softened the truth but Jack understood. “She could use some sleep and real food herself, if you could recommend it.” 

Jack nodded immediately, always good with taking orders. 

Mac smirked at the serious look on his face. 

“You know, if you took care of yourselves half as well as you took care of each other, you wouldn’t need to be here,” she pointed out as she tucked him into bed once more. 

“We’ll try to work on that,” he muttered. 

OOOOO 

Jack couldn’t stop thinking about his dream. 

As ridiculous as the premise sounded to him now, the world he had inhabited while in his coma had felt more visceral than a memory, more alive to him than his own past. 

He had loved her, some version of her, openly. Could they do that in the real world? Could she let herself be with him? Would she finally be able to put her trust in him?

A soft knock on his door stirred him from his thoughts and he smiled at the sight of her.

“Am I interrupting?” She asked. 

“Never.” He gestured for her to take her seat beside his bed. “I believe I owe you a debt of thanks. Rumor has it, you saved my life.” 

“If I had moved faster, you wouldn’t be here at all.” She spoke as if the thought had been haunting her for the last few days. 

“Phryne…” Jack frowned and reached for her hand. She gave it to him freely as she joined him on the edge of his bed. He squeezed it tightly before entwining their fingers together. Her eyes fluttered shut and Jack paused, wondering if he’d crossed a line. This too felt newly familiar somehow, like perhaps he’d only ever done it in his dreams.

“Don’t stop,” she encouraged. “I’ve been cradling that lifeless hand for days. I forgot how good it felt when someone touched back.” She relished in his hand moving on its own. 

“I can’t believe you’ve been sitting here staring at my unconscious body for days,” he acknowledged. “It must have been terribly dull for you.” 

“You tried to die in my arms, Jack,” she reminded him brusquely.

“Right.” He felt stupid for the assumption. It wasn’t so long ago his world turned upside down at the mere thought of her being killed. If she had been the one on the verge of death, he would have been beside himself. “I don’t remember much,” he admitted. “I have a vague memory of you yelling at me,” he ribbed gently.

“Well, you kept closing your eyes,” she defended. “I also told you I loved you, so...” She awarded herself points for the balance. 

“Did I say it back?” He asked, unable to recall.

“In so many words. You were bleeding quite profusely at the time,” she excused. 

“Should I try again?” He asked, watching her face carefully. 

She looked down at him in surprise. She swallowed a small lump in her throat but her eyes looked hopeful so he motioned for her to lean closer and she did. 

He cupped her cheek in his hand, brushing it gently with his thumb.

“I love you,” he murmured, “thank you for taking such good care of me.” 

“I love you too,” she whispered, “and you’re welcome.” 

He kissed her once before releasing her and she squeezed the hand still resting in hers. 

“I’m so glad you’re awake.” She sighed in relief before laughing giddily. 

OOOOO 

The next morning, Jack awoke to someone coming in to bathe and shave him for the first time in days. He was exhausted afterwards and fell asleep for an hour in response. 

When he awoke again, he ate a very successful amount of oatmeal before his first guests of the day arrived. 

Rosie arrived with a new book and a familiar worried brow. After spending some time with him, she left looking much better than she arrived and Jack was reminded both how good and how exhausting it felt to be the one to get to comfort her. 

Dot arrived with a freshly-knit cardigan sweater with wood toggles that he could wear and manage by himself and he took it gratefully. He’d never received a more thoughtful and practical gift in his life. Also in tow was a tin of contraband biscuits from Mr. Butler that she hid in his bedside drawer. Just knowing they were there made him smile. 

Even the raggers stopped in briefly to check on him under the pretense of letting him know they had finished setting up his room in the library. Jack managed to pry the current football standings out of them before they left. 

Phryne stayed in the hallway, monitoring the time each guest spent, never interrupting but guiding the process along. She stopped visits for lunch and another nap before Collins arrived after his shift to catch him up on the station news and how the men were taking to his interim replacement. 

When she finally stepped into the room herself, he forced a biscuit on her and she took one from the tin gratefully. 

“When was the last time you slept?” He asked her. 

“I sleep,” she promised. 

“You should be in your own bed,” he sighed. 

“I like sharing with you.” She took her half of the bed on his good side and began nibbling on her snack. “Besides, you’ve slept enough for the both of us this week,” she defended, her mouth full. 

“It’s not quite the same thing.” He looked disapprovingly at her for both the statement and her manners and she beamed at seeing the familiar role he played in her life emerge once again.

“What was it like?” She asked more seriously. “Do you remember?” 

“I had a very vivid dream.” 

“Was it a good dream?”

“It wasn't half bad,” he decided. “I was a traveling sheriff in the wild west.”

“A sheriff?” She repeated, not quite understanding. 

“Yes, and you were there. You owned a saloon with a brothel above it.”

“Sounds like me.” She yawned and turned to face him. “Did you come to, um, visit me?” She asked, unable to resist asking.

“You read ‘Leaves of Grass’ out loud as I took you with my tongue.” He whispered with a guilty grin.

“Walt Whitman?” She sat up. 

He nodded.

“I read that to you!” She confirmed. “That little hussy! I did all the hard work and she got all the pleasure!”

Jack smiled at her outrage. 

“We can rectify that,” he soothed her as she folded her arms in defeat. “Someday, anyway.” He looked down at his bandages, wishing he had the power to cut them off right then.

“Do you promise?”

“Mm,” he nodded. “There was also a clandestine affair in a storage room that you may want to prepare yourself for as well,” he hinted. 

“Don’t tell me.” She placed a finger on his lips. “Surprise me. Someday.” 


	6. Chapter 6

“Phryne?” Jack called down the hall.

“Yes?”

“Did you happen to find my socks while you were packing?” He asked from his seat at the foot of the bed, taking a break from his search of the library’s makeshift guest room set up. His breath was still short when he tried to move for more than short periods of time and his search of the dresser assigned to him had been enough to wear him out.

She appeared in the doorway.

“I wasn’t involved, I’m afraid. I sent Mr. Butler to find what he could and purchase what he couldn't.”

Jack frowned in surprise. He’d always just assumed that she had been the one to collect his things.

“I couldn’t bring myself to go in,” she revealed, reading his face. “Not without you.”

“I would have thought you would have jumped at the opportunity. You love rummaging through people's things.” He was trying to lighten the mood but it was also the truth. She was a nightmare when it came to search and seizure laws.

“And I will. When you're the one to invite me in,” she said plainly, not making excuses or giving her reasons. She clearly had her own moral code on the matter.  

Something in the back of Jack’s brain recognized the sentence.

_I only make house calls if I’m invited in._

Jack smiled to himself, tucking away the small piece of evidence that they were more similar than appeared.

“Mr. Butler has prepared lunch, we can ask him where they’ve gone.” She changed the subject. “Shall I call for a tray or do you want to try the dining room?” She asked.

Jack looked appraisingly down the hall. When he’d been released that morning, they had told him that walking would be good for him but encouraged him to listen to his body and not push it. He hadn’t had a meal at a table yet and he was more than anxious to try eating while sitting in a chair. His side wasn’t aching quite yet, his pain medicine from the morning still at work and he thought he could manage it, even if it required more time than usual to complete.

“Let's test the limits,” he decided with a determined face.

“Inspector Robinson, you do keep me in a perpetual state of surprise.” She grinned at his choice as she handed him his cane.

OOOOO

Phryne had one job.

Mr. Butler had been assigned to help Jack with dressing and the more private assistance of bathing. She, however, was the one assigned to clean and change his bandages for the next few days while his scars healed without the sutures.

She entered the library with everything she needed to do this job and found Jack sleeping in bed, blanket tossed aside as if he had been expecting her and didn't want to be woken.

She set her items down and watched him for a moment, the memory of doing it at the hospital too fresh to fill her with the same soft affection as the last time he had slept in her home. She checked his pulse for her own sanity and it was steady. She took a deep breath, preparing her plan.

She began slowly and quietly unbuttoning his shirt, not wanting to disrupt his much needed rest. As she pulled it open, she cut the first bandage away and examined it. His scar across his rib looked good, far better than she had imagined over the last week. She was about to turn him over to examine his back when he spoke.

“Hello.” He was looking down on her with groggy eyes.

“Turn onto your side,” she requested quietly. She held onto his bicep to help steady him as she looked at the small circle on his back. She bandaged it quickly and turned him over to begin bandaging his surgical scar. “I think this should be the only time we have to do this,” she reported. “They sewed you up beautifully. Granted, I’m used to seeing war wounds.” She added. “But you’re on the mend.”

“Thanks to you.”

She smiled at him, a pang of emotion hitting her chest, and brushed his curl back off his forehead.

“Go back to sleep.” She kissed his forehead.

“Phryne?” He stopped her in the doorway and she turned around.

“I love you,” he added intentionally, his ever-observant eyes on hers and she smiled.

“I love you too,” she nodded before turning the corner and letting the smile fade to something more real.

It was only the third time they had shared the exchange and this time, rather than fear or joy, Phryne found herself on the verge of tears. The impact of watching him sleep had triggered emotions she had been too busy caring for him to analyze. She felt sad and she didn't know why. He was here and healing and they were together, she reminded herself.

But reprising her role of nurse had reminded her of other brave men, in other beds, who had not been so lucky, and Phryne’s guilt for letting Jack step in front of her, no questions asked, spilled out of her now. He had been willing to die for her and she hadn't even recognized the gesture as anything more than tactical in the moment.

She turned around, making a decision and went back into his room.

“Jack?” She looked at him, tears in her eyes blurring her vision.

“Come here.” He opened his arms toward her and she took her half of the bed on his good side, letting him wrap his arm around her.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried.

“It's alright,” he comforted her. “Everything's alright. It's all over, you don't have to be brave anymore.” He rubbed her arm, knowing precisely why she was crying now, maybe expecting it even.

She cried harder at his wisdom and he held her there until they both fell asleep.

OOOOO 

Phryne's initial assessment had been correct. Jack healed fast in the care of Wardlow. 

Before long, he had moved upstairs to a proper bedroom and was spending his days recuperating on the second floor terrace: reading, drinking tea, and observing the action in the streets below. Occasionally, Hugh would stop by and join him and they’d go over the current cases at the station. While Jack enjoyed the mentorship and watching Hugh come into his own as a Senior Constable, his own yearning to get back to work was strong and he couldn’t help but be jealous. Giving his opinions secondhand would never be the same as getting to run down his own cases, see the suspects’ faces, hear the statements himself. He missed it immensely. 

He was sitting outside, watching the sun go down, when Phryne came around the corner of the terrace and shivered.

“Aren't you cold?” She asked as she pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders and sat down in the chair next to him. 

“Spring is on it's way.”

“Yes but it has yet to arrive," she pouted. “What are you doing out here?”

“Mentally preparing for my hospital visit tomorrow,” he answered honestly. It was the last step before getting cleared for his return to his life and he was feeling more than a little anxious to impress the doctors. Even if he couldn’t go back to the field, leaving the house on his own accord would be more than enough for him. 

“You’ve been remarkably patient. I know it hasn't been easy for you to be here.”

“It was easier than I expected. And though my hostess has been remarkably charming,” he added, “I think I’m ready to attend to my own needs for awhile.” 

“Not all of them, I hope.” She flashed him a teasing look. 

“Speaking of,” he smirked, “I’ve been thinking.” 

“Yes?” She was unable to resist prodding him forward when the subject was so delicious. 

“When all of this is over, I’d like to take you out to celebrate. We can get properly dressed up, have a nice dinner, perhaps at the Windsor?” He tilted his head, awaiting her reaction. 

Her touched smile told him everything he needed to know. 

“I would like that very much,” she spoke sincerely, reaching for his hand, “but you don’t have to woo me, Inspector. I’m quite smitten with you already.” 

She was giving him an out.

“I haven’t left this house in over a month. Wooing has nothing to do with it. Not to mention, once I return to the station, my time will return to being the State of Victoria's property and while I enjoy solving cases with you, they aren’t always the most romantic ways to spend time together.”

“I think we’ve done remarkably well, given the circumstances,” she defended. 

“Imagine what we could do if we were actually trying."

She stood up and placed her hands on his arm rests, zeroing in on him.

“I've some idea," she hinted. "You’re not the only one who dreams, Inspector,” she reminded him before leaning in to give him a searing kiss.

Once her lipstick was properly smudged, she pulled away and headed back inside, leaving him with a stupid grin on his face.


	7. Chapter 7

“I think that’s everything,” Jack said, looking around at the empty foyer as Cec and Bert loaded the last of Jack’s things into the cab.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Phryne asked him once more. She didn’t like the idea of him going to the hospital alone. The last time he had attempted to walk through the front door, he had been shot. He could probably still see his blood stains on the pavement.

“I will be fine,” Jack assured her. “It’s just procedure to have them officially sign off on my paperwork and then I’ll be at Russell Street all afternoon. There’s no need.”

“I know,” she nodded, looking straight ahead at the neighbor’s new car, “but still.”

He smiled at her fondly and looked around the street before pulling her in for a kiss.

“I’m going to miss you,” she told him.

“I’m just a telephone call away. One word and I’ll be right back here,” he promised.

“I know,” she kissed him one more time quickly, knowing how he felt about public displays of affection. “Good luck.”

“Thank you, for everything.” He looked down into her eyes and she nodded once more.

And with a wave, he got in the cab and was gone.

OOOOO

Jack was neck deep in his missed cases, trying to get caught up as best as he could before he returned to work, when his telephone rang.

“Robinson,” he answered distractedly.

“Hello Inspector.” An over the top sultry voice greeted him.

“Miss Fisher,” he smiled and settled into his chair.

“How was your return to Russell Street?” She asked more seriously and he felt a bit disappointed as her normal voice returned.

“I have a lot to catch up on, but it was good. I’m glad you phoned.”

“Oh?” She sounded coy.

“What are your plans on Saturday evening?”

“Whatever you had in mind,” she replied.

“Care for dinner at the Windsor?”

“I would love to. Should I ask for my usual room?” She inquired.

Jack’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “You should.”

“I’ll make sure to pack a bag.”

He heard her smile at his sudden lack of speech.

“Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“I have a warm bath waiting, so I’m going to let you get back to work. Don’t stay up too late. You have a big day tomorrow.”

“I won't,” he promised. “Sleep well.”

“Good night.”

Jack hung up the phone and stared at the file on his lap for a long moment before tossing it aside and giving up. His attention had been stolen by the thought of Phryne in the bath and it wasn't coming back.

OOOOO

“I’m glad we’re finally getting to do this,” Phryne smiled at him as he led her into the hotel.

“It's nothing short of a miracle,” he commented dryly.

“No aunts, exes, fathers, or criminals. Just a quiet dinner, alone, with you at last.”

She smiled as she stepped up to the front desk.

“Ah, Miss Fisher. Welcome back.”

“Hello, Martin. Checking in.”

“Yes, yes. Suite 4 had been reserved for you. Would you like to inspect the room before dinner?” He looked up at her expectantly.

Phryne looked at Jack, wondering what he thought of the idea.

“It couldn't hurt,” he excused.

“Just to be safe,” she nodded in agreement.

The bellboy took their luggage and escorted them to their room.

Jack tipped him generously and shut and locked the door behind him. As soon as he turned around, she knew she was in trouble.

He was looking at her like he was a cat and she was a canary.

She smiled as he strode across the room and swept her up in his arms and she melted into his embrace, giving him the control he demanded from her as his tongue explored her mouth hungrily.

With a rough growl of pleasure, he cupped his large hands under the curve of her bottom and lifted her up in one fluid motion.

"Jack! Your side!" She protested but kept her legs wrapped around him securely as he sat himself down on the bed, sitting her in his lap. He pawed at the side of her dress until he could lift it over her head to resume kissing her.

His suit pants rubbed against her inner thighs, making her nerves short circuit and her muscles clenched in desire.

“Too many clothes,” she whimpered as she set to work undressing him. It was awkward and clumsy and they both laughed as they fought to free themselves of the rest of their clothes without moving.

“Mmm. Much better,” she murmured against his lips as she rubbed herself against him longingly.

“Hold still, woman,” he begged for mercy, wanting to be inside her.

She lowered herself onto him with a luxurious moan before he kissed her his appreciation.

His mouth moved down to suck on her pert nipple as she rocked over him, drawing out a gasp as a bolt of lightning shot through her.

“Yes,” she moaned as they found their rhythm, his hips matching hers. She opened her eyes to find him watching her and she pressed her forehead to his, her hands clutching the back of his head as her hips moved desperately. She shattered fast, panting his name in his ear.

He cried out, his hands tight on her hips, as he emptied himself inside her.

They both relaxed into one another as they collected themselves. Phryne stroked the back of Jack's hair, waiting for him to look at her once more. When he did, he looked surprised by what had just occurred.

“Oops,” Phryne said so unapologetically that they both began to chuckle.

“Jesus,” he murmured as he removed her crooked fascinator for her and tossed it onto the pile of clothes at his feet.

“A year of foreplay, darling. We didn't stand a chance,” she excused their behavior.

“I don’t suppose we did.” He assessed her naked body properly for the first time, drinking her in.

“Let's get cleaned up and have dinner brought up to us,” she suggested.

“I like the sound of that.” He caressed her thighs lovingly.

She let her eyes close, relishing in the feeling.

“Phryne…”

“Hmm?” She looked down at him and remembered that they had a plan. “Right. Steak?” She distracted herself.

OOOOO

When Jack woke up, he felt delightfully spent. Their evening together consisted of lying in bed laughing, playing, making love, intimately exploring each other, napping, and starting all over again. It had been better than anything he'd imagined on his own.

He opened his eyes and glanced over to check on her. She was still fast asleep on her stomach, clutching the pillow underneath her.

He slipped out of bed, careful to avoid the mess they had made the night before, and began to run a bath.

As he slipped into the warm water, he felt his tight muscles relax. He’d pushed the limits of his injuries and while he hadn't felt a thing while he was thrusting inside her, he was paying for his insatiable appetite this morning.

He closed his eyes and let his memory unreel before him, reminding himself of all the reasons it was worth it.

After a while, the water began to cool and he released the stopper. He wrapped a towel around his waist and made his way back into the bedroom to find his clothes.

“Ohhh.” A groggy groan came from the bed and he turned around, surprised that she was awake this early. “You don't fight fair.”

“Good morning.” He smiled and bent over to kiss her.

She surreptitiously reached for the towel at his hips and Jack swatted her hand away, breaking the kiss.

Phryne pouted as she sat up to watch him get dressed, fluffing the pillows behind her back.

“At least go slow,” she requested.

“Trust me, I have no other speeds this morning,” he promised as he reached for his clothes.

“Does your side hurt?” She asked, concerned.

“No, it's just tired. It will be fine. How do you feel this morning?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Mmm, sated.” She stretched. “But hungry,” she added as she reached for the telephone. “Would you like breakfast?”

“Yes please.”

She placed an order before going to wash up and prepare for the day.

When she appeared dressed and made up in the parlor, she sat down directly beside him, picked up a piece of toast, and began reading the paper with him over his shoulder.

“What are your plans today?” He asked.

“No plans. You?”

“I thought I would do some work in my garden. It would be a perfect time to let you rummage through my house, if you’re interested.”

She smiled widely.

“Is that an invitation, Inspector?”

“I suppose it is.”

She leaned in and kissed him, tasting every bit like butter and jam.

“Check out is in 30 minutes,” he warned, glancing at his watch.

“Then I’ll work quickly,” she smirked as she pushed him backwards onto the couch, licking her lips.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last one! Thanks for following along and being so supportive on this strange endeavor.

When Jack pulled up to his house, Phryne was looking out the window like a small child.

“Here we are.” He put the car in park.

Her eyes raked over every detail of the small brick house as they got out of the car and walked up the pavement.

“If I had known you were so curious, I would have invited you over myself," he informed her.

“You really have no idea how secretive you are, do you?” She paused as he unlocked the kitchen door.

He shrugged.

“Be my guest.” He gestured to let her walk in first.

The kitchen was about the same size as her own. A table sat to the right of the back door and the far wall held the icebox and the oven. She ran her hand along the counter before walking through and into the parlor. She expected Jack to follow her but he turned the corner, to what she assumed was his bedroom, content to let her explore on her own.

The parlor had a pair of wingback chairs and a sofa in front of the fireplace with a built in bookshelf along the far wall. A small coffee table held a stack of his files and notes.

She made her way down the hall.

“Well, what’s your verdict, Miss Fisher?” He asked appraisingly as she paused momentarily in the doorway to lean against the jam.

“It’s just as I always imagined it would be.”

He reached out for her hand, beckoning her into the room.

“You look surprised,” she noted.

“You’ve never show an interest.”

“I’m interested in every piece of you, Jack.” She touched his chest. “Not that I don't love a man shrouded in mystery but you can be an enigma at times.”

He looked as if he had heard that piece of characterization before.

Her eyes set on a familiar book on his bedside table and she broke away to examine it closer.

“You’ve been reading Whitman.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and ran her hand over the cover.

“I was reintroduced to him lately,” he answered casually.

“I much prefer you quoting Rilke and Shakespeare.”

“Well, if a Roman soldier is what you want…” He gave her a knowing look as he sat down beside her, taking the book out of her hands.

“I want _you_ , Jack,” she informed him with a roll of her eyes. “Not a Roman soldier, or an American cowboy, or even an Antipodean detective. Just you.”

“You’ve always had me,” he smiled. “And you always will,” he added.

She nodded, knowing it was true. No matter what happened between them romantically, she knew that she would do anything for him and she felt confident he would do the same. Their relationship extended beyond any particular label they placed on it.

She placed her hand over his, silently thanking him for his words and echoing them herself.

He lifted her hand to his lips briefly, sealing the vow with a chaste kiss.

“Come, I’ll show you the garden. We can set you up in a chair in the shade and you can watch me work. I know how much you love that.”

The Cheshire cat smile that burst from her made him laugh out loud and he kissed it off her lips.

“While I would love nothing more than to watch you toiling in the sun while I sip lemonade in the shade, perhaps,” she leaned back, pulling him down beside her, “since we’ve already had such a long night, maybe we could lie here together instead, just for a moment?”

He inspected her face for a moment, searching for a hidden seductive motive that wasn't there. She was serious.

He nodded and opened his arm up for her to join him on his left side, her side. He didn't ask a single follow-up question to her request, despite his mind whirring with them, and she had never been more grateful for his restraint as she settled into him.

She pressed her ear to his chest and listened to the unfailing sound of his steady heartbeat, felt the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply with his functioning lungs. It was something she would never take for granted again. She closed her eyes and let them lull her to sleep.

OOOOO

Epilogue

Phryne looked out at the ships on the horizon before something else caught her attention. A soldier was working on the docks, glistening under the hot Egyptian sun. His muscles were flexing and his white kilt was doing little to hide his remarkable body.

She snapped her fingers and a servant girl appeared at her side.

“Bring me that man on the docks,” she pointed to him.

The servant girl left immediately and Phryne watched from her balcony as the message was delivered. The man, upon being interrupted, looked confused as he followed the girl’s finger to the balcony.

Even across the distance, a jolt of knowing pulsed through her. She had chosen well.

He left his post and followed the girl into the palace.

The girl announced his arrival and Phryne turned to greet the man who had caught her attention.

He bowed briefly.

“You wanted to see me, your highness?”

His voice was low, but sure. Phryne imagined his neck would rumble under her lips when he spoke. He didn't look afraid or intimidated. He looked her in the eye, which was bold. And refreshing.

“What is your name, soldier?” She asked curiously.

“Jack Robinson.”

“And how long have you been of service to your queen?” She asked, posing the question seductively.

“Ten years, thus far," he added, his own look proving that he understood why he was here.

“Do you enjoy your work?”

“It’s an honor," he stated. “Although I am sure you have many men at your disposal who would agree.”

“Mm.” She didn't deny it. “Would you say you are a skilled man?”

“Of course. The queen would allow for nothing less.”

She raised an eyebrow, surprised by his confidence.

“Would you care for a demonstration, your highness?”

She wasn't used to being asked questions and it took her a moment to respond to the overtness of his. She took her time, her eyes raking over the specimen before her. He knew exactly what he was saying and he still seemed completely at ease.

“Leave us,” she commanded to her servants and guards and they did her bidding quickly and quietly.

As the stone door closed behind them, Phryne took a slow, slinky step towards the man, closing the distance.

“I am the most powerful woman in the eastern hemisphere. To speak with such impudence in my presence could be considered lethal,” she noted passively as she stood beside him.

“With all due respect, your highness, I believe that's precisely what you desire.” He broke his stare ahead to glance to his left to meet her eye.

Her breathing became shallow and she walked behind him, breaking the connection and attempting to gain her composure.

“I can only imagine a woman of your wit and position must tire easily of obedient men,” he continued and she stared at the back of his head.

“Soldiers are molded to be obedient, are they not?” She inquired as she came around his right side.

“We are molded to serve,” he made the distinction, “in whatever way our queen needs.”

“And how would you serve my needs?” She asked as she returned to her place in front of him, challenging him flat out.

“Continuously,” the quiet voice caused her gaze to lose focus, “until my queen commands me to cease.”

Phryne smiled.


End file.
